


A Moment's Time

by Fallingtowardsoblivion



Series: Who the Hell is Emrys?! [3]
Category: Arthurian Mythology, Merlin (BBC), Merlin (TV)
Genre: Can be read alone, Canon Era, Comedy, Comfort, Established Relationship, Fluff, Funny, Humor, M/M, Merthur - Freeform, Oneshot, care, extension of Who The Hell Is Emrys, hunith is sick, merlin loses a fight with a vase
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-23
Updated: 2016-02-23
Packaged: 2018-05-22 19:28:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6091624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fallingtowardsoblivion/pseuds/Fallingtowardsoblivion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hunith is sick and Merlin is on edge. Arthur senses his consort's mood and reacts accordingly.</p>
<p>An extension of Who the Hell Is Emrys but can be read alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Moment's Time

**Author's Note:**

  * For [the5leggedCricket](https://archiveofourown.org/users/the5leggedCricket/gifts).



> this is for leggy who needs fluff and made the mistake of complimenting who the hell is emrys.  
> You brought this upon yourself, dude.

 

Arthur watched as Merlin walked around the room, shoving various objects into other objects in a manner that the servant deemed to be _cleaning_ , though George deemed to be _aneurism-inducing_.  

Appearing to not have noticed that Arthur was watching him, the young warlock busily put Excalibur to good use, shoving a rather _solid_ pile of clothing into a miscellaneous vase. Arthur just stood in the doorway, incredulous look on his face, watching the whole massacre of his chambers with something liken to a disembodied horror.

Evidently, the world’s strongest sword wasn’t a satisfactory item for the job, for a moment later the servant was tossing it aside in a manner that had Arthur actually clutching a bit at his weakened heart, and instead began to stomping the clothing into the vase with his _foot_.

It was the clamor of Excalibur crashing into something that sounded _royal_ , _fragile_ and _priceless_ that had Arthur shaking himself from his abject horror and stepping further into his chambers, closing the door softly behind him.

Merlin was now on his bum, scooting across the floor as he tried to dislodge said vase from his foot.

Evidently, the manservant was an _idiot_ and prone to losing fights with inanimate objects.

“Merlin…” Arthur said carefully, eyes trailed on where Merlin’s _other_ foot had now managed to get lodged in the bloody vase from _hell_. Merlin grunted, shoving at the vase with his hands but otherwise not acknowledging his king.

Um. _Rude_.

“ _Mer_ lin.” Arthur repeated, watching the struggle and vaguely wondering how in the world he had managed to tie himself so totally and utterly to such a god damned _fool_.

Merlin merely let out another grunt that definitely _wasn’t_ attractive, hot or otherwise affecting the king in rather _unkingly_ manners because Arthur _definitely_ did _not_ find Merlin struggling on the floor with a vase, all leggy and squirmy and dear _gods_ this needed to stop –

“MERLIN!” Arthur shouted, and Merlin stopped mid-flail, somehow caught in a pile of clothing on top of everything else.

“Yes, sire?” The manservant said innocently, glaring at the vase that was currently latched onto his shins.

“What, pray tell, are you doing?” The king ground out, and Merlin gave his a sour look.

“What does it look like I’m doing?”

“ _Merlin_ ,” Arthur growled out, narrowing his eyes in a manner that he thought was rather regal and intimidating. (Merlin, on the other hand, called it Arthur’s reading look, because he thought it resembled the King trying to get through a passage of particularly dense composition about none other than grain taxes. Not that Merlin actually categorized Arthur’s different reading faces. Much.)

“Fine, fine.” The warlock said distractedly, finally remembering that he was, in fact, capable of magic and was, in fact not only well endowed in the magical realm but also endowed _well enough_ to just _magic_ the bloody vase off his feet. Merlin promptly did just that, managing to make a whole, priceless vase as well as a good eighth of Arthur’s closet (because, well, the pile was in fact _quite_ dense) disappear in the process.

He refrained an ‘oops’, instead looking up at Arthur as though he actually had known what he had been doing all along and did _not_ in fact just disintegrate the king’s possessions in a rather _rude_ manner right in front of him.

“Well..?” Arthur said, making a ‘get it out already you bloody git’ gesture with his hand.

Merlin frowned at the rather rude gesture and replied, “Well, I was cleaning! Not that a prat like you would know what that was.”

Arthur resisted the urge to shove his fingers into his eyes and maybe bang his head on the wall and end his suffer and instead said, “I can see that, _Merlin_. What I am asking is why in the _world_ is my Court Sorcerer _cleaning_? Didn’t we agree to not do that anymore? Or is the fact that George’s hairline has been exponentially receding since you became my manservant mean nothing to you?”

Merlin muttered something that sounded rather rude about prats and receding hair and never being happy with what you _have_ , can you? And quite a few other blasphemous remarks that Arthur chose to ignore.

Arthur sighed, walking over to where his consort was still splayed on the floor. Silently, he helped the warlock to his feet.

Merlin sighed, looking away as Arthur silently brushed the clothing and – dirt? – from his lover.

“Are you still worried?” The king finally said, and Merlin glanced up at him for a moment before looking away again. He nodded.

With a sigh, Arthur pulled Merlin into his arms, and the warlock let it happen, folding himself into his lover’s embrace.

“Mmph phm mphm.” He said, and Arthur cooed and shushed him softly because the royal was weird like that, not realizing that he was shoving Merlin’s head into his shoulder and making it hard for the warlock to _breathe_.

A moment later, and Merlin was blessedly released and also very much remembering why he _actively_ _avoided_ comforting embraces from Arthur.

“It’s going to be alright, Merlin,” The king said softly, cupping the side of the warlock’s face. Merlin nodded, biting his lip.

“I just – I just worry. You know?” He muttered, lacing his hand in Arthur’s free one.

“I know, love. I know. Sometimes, though, things just happen, and we have no control over them.”

Merlin swallowed past the lump in his throat, squeezing Arthur’s hand softly. Arthur squeezed back, harder, and Merlin, never one to be cowed by a challenge, promptly _crushed_ his lover’s hand in a death grip that had Arthur grinding his teeth visibly.

After asserting his hand dominance for a full thirty seconds, Merlin finally let go, once again remembering that he was having a tender moment with Arthur . Oh yeah.

“I just, she’s my mum… I know she’ll probably get better but…” The court sorcerer trailed off, biting his bottom lip.

Sighing, Arthur herded the warlock over to his (freshly made) bed, and promptly _unmade_ it in order to pile as many blankets as humanly possible on the younger man.

Merlin might’ve been protesting, though Arthur couldn’t very well hear him because he was muffled by half a dozen blankets.

Ignoring the muffled noises of protest, Arthur instead wrapped an arm around the warlock, tugging his into a close embrace and instead saying, “I believe, Merlin, that everything will be alright. Hunith will be get better –up and at ‘em in no time. She has the best physician in all of Camelot looking after her, after all.”

Merlin made a muffled noise that might’ve him feeling comforted. Or, he might’ve also been going on about prats and blankets and whatnot.

Arthur liked to assume it was the former, though finally relented and uncovered his lover’s head.

“Did you say something?”

Merlin gritted his teeth, before finally relaxing back in the embrace, because really, Arthur’s arms were quite warm and strong and comfy…

“You’re lucky you’re comfortable, prat.” The warlock muttered, taking the opportunity to get situated in the crook of said prat’s arm.

Arthur made a noise of protest, but Merlin shushed it by smacking his forehead into Arthur’s jaw, making both of them make respective noises of pain and rub their respective body parts.

After the pain had receded, Merlin once again settled back into Arthur, and Arthur once again wrapped his arms around his sorcerer.

The pair sat in silence for a time, just taking comfort from each other’s company.

Eventually Merlin fell asleep, and, well, Arthur couldn’t very well bring himself to kick the younger man off his bed. So instead, he snuggled under the pile of blankets, and fell asleep as well.

 

**Author's Note:**

> *awkward pat* it's gunna be okay buddy. Arthur says so.


End file.
